


christmas (baby please come home)

by crimsvn



Series: crimsvn's five days of dnf-mas [1]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Party, First Kiss, First Meetings, Fluff and Humor, Getting Together, M/M, Meet-Cute, One Shot, Strangers to Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:22:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28226079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crimsvn/pseuds/crimsvn
Summary: George would have never expected that by the end of the night he would be taking home the number of the idiot loudly serenading his beer (and the rest of the party) with his own rendition ofChristmas (Baby Please Come Home).
Relationships: Alexis | Quackity & GeorgeNotFound, Alexis | Quackity & Sapnap, Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), GeorgeNotFound & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF)
Series: crimsvn's five days of dnf-mas [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2067309
Comments: 5
Kudos: 237





	christmas (baby please come home)

**Author's Note:**

> let's pretend they're all 21 or something like that hehe
> 
> \+ re-upload bc i screwed some stuff up lol  
> & also here's a link to my [tumblr](https://criimsvn.tumblr.com/) if you ever want to say hi!

The Christmas spirit in the atmosphere made everything feel like a shitty Hallmark movie, but in reality, it was like watching a car wreck that you couldn't look away from.

George had been glued to the snack table, nursing his rum and eggnog like the good wallflower he was as everything unfolded. After attending Karl's Christmas parties for years now, he had finally wormed his way out of being deemed the DD for his friends, so he was simply trying to enjoy himself—which had proven to be difficult with the... _spectacle_ being put on in the centre of the room.

While Karl's parties tended to be rather populated, George still, at least, had a vague idea of who everyone was. The blond that was presently belting U2's version of _Christmas (Baby Please Come Home)_ into his beer bottle—entirely unfamiliar to George. Cute, and bold as hell, but unfamiliar all the same.

The man wasn't alone in singing, not by any means. A good portion of the crowd was equally as drunk off their rockers, but the blond was the centre of attention, everyone cheering him on as they sang along. George had to thank whatever higher power there was that at least the stranger didn't have a horrible voice, if he was going to be carolling this loud.

George shakes his head as he brings his glass to his lips, downing the rest of his drink when he feels an elbow to his ribcage. He looks sharply to his left, where Sapnap is stood snickering. Be it at George, or the apparent performer, George couldn't tell.

"You enjoying the show?" Sapnap jokes. "'Cause I'm having the time of my life."

George scoffs, setting his glass down on the table. "Doing what? Watching some idiot embarrass himself to a house full of people at a Christmas party?"

Sapnap snaps his fingers. "Precisely. Though, knowing Dream I don't think he's too embarrassed. He's a confident prick, if there ever was one."

George raises an eyebrow, glancing back at "Dream", who had just started into another song, albeit quieter this time. "You know him?" George asks.

Sapnap shrugs, taking a sip of his drink. "Unfortunately. He was in my calculus course last year. I'm surprised you haven't met him yet, he's a comp sci major, too."

"I don't get out much," George grumbles.

_"That_ we already knew," a new voice interjects from George's right. It's Alex, who is decidedly less than sober. "What are you doing out here on the sidelines, George? You're missing out on all of the fun."

"What fun? Shouting out the incorrect lyrics to just about every Christmas song known to mankind?" George deadpans. "Sounds riveting. You look like shit, by the way."

"And _you_ are a jackass," Alex retorts. "What happened to Christmas spirit?"

"He has none, didn't you hear that Georgie here is cousins with Ebenezer Scrooge?" Sapnap teases. George shoots him a glare, but his friend is unfazed.

Alex nudges George's arm. "C'mon, George, you're actually allowed to drink this year. You have no excuses to be an asshat. Just let loose, would you? Besides, you have _no_ chance of fucking Dream by the end of the night from over here."

George splutters. If he had a drink still, he'd be spitting it out. "I do _not_ —what in the _fuck_ are you talking about?"

Alex and Sapnap burst into laughter at George's expense, but luckily, because of the aforementioned Dream, no attention is pulled to them. George wishes the ground would open up and swallow him whole. He does his best to ignore his warm, tingling cheeks.

_"Dude,"_ Sapnap chokes out between breaths, "you were _so_ ogling him. And so what if you called him an idiot, he's totally your type!"

George scowls, folding his arms over his chest. "That's not true. None of that is," he protests. The cheery music that filled their environment only seemed to mock George at that moment. He internally took back anything he had thought about the situation being like a Hallmark movie.

"Tell that to your _face,"_ Alex argues, sending himself and Sapnap into another laughing fit.

George huffs and rolls his eyes, muttering under his breath as he storms away from the assholes he called friends. Though yes, George would admit he found Dream—and reluctantly his courage as well—attractive, it's not like it had become his goal to _fuck_ him. _At least not yet,_ George thinks, but then immediately wipes the thought from his mind. His friends were a bad influence sober, but inebriated they were so incredibly worse.

George thinks for a moment that he should try and seek out Wilbur or Phil since they would make for much better company than anyone else right now, _if_ anyone, but instead George finds himself wandering outside, contemplating calling a cab. Maybe he was a poor sport, maybe he was just being grumpy, or maybe, _just maybe,_ this was why he didn't drink often. Only two drinks in and his friends had easily been able to sully his mood.

George plops himself down on the steps of the empty front porch, listening to the faint Christmas music that drifted through the door. He wished he had grabbed his, or any jacket on the way out, but it was too late, and he was too lazy to get back up. George hugs his arms around his abdomen, taking a deep breath of the fresh, frostbitten air. It calms him almost instantly.

Quietly, George surveys the light snowfall, tempted to reach out a hand to catch snowflakes, only held back by the cold that would threaten his gloveless hands. There's already a thin layer of snow coating the ground, precipitation that hadn't existed earlier that night. _The Christmas spirit,_ George thinks to himself, and laughs. _So much about it._

He isn't too certain how long he spends outside, having also opted to not take out his phone because of the chilly weather, but George is suddenly pulled from his thoughts when he hears the door open and shut behind him.

George whirls around, only to be faced with the stranger, Dream. He hates to admit that the man is even better-looking up close, despite his tousled hair and pink cheeks from the alcohol. The leftover smile Dream wears is bright and jovial, and George thinks he may have melted a bit, even as Dream's expression softens as he notices there's someone outside along with him.

"I didn't realize there was someone outside," Dream says. "I can go back in if it's a bother."

George shakes his head, almost desperately. So _maybe_ Sapnap was right about Dream being his type, but George would never let Alex have the satisfaction of knowing that _yeah,_ perhaps George had had a passing thought about hooking up with him. 

"No, it's fine," George insists. "I was just out here to get some air. It can get a bit stuffy, you know?"

Dream nods. "I get that. Mind if I sit?"

"Not at all," George says, patting the space on the concrete step beside him. Dream sits himself down with all of the grace of a newborn giraffe, but George doesn't blame him. If the blond was as drunk as George suspected he might be, George thinks that he wouldn't have been surprised if Dream had tripped down the stairs instead.

They sit in silence, side by side, George too concerned with what to say, and Dream too fucked up to care. George twiddles his fingers while Dream stares out contentedly at the night sky.

"So what brings you outside?" George finally inquires. "You seemed to be having fun putting on a, uh. _Show."_

Dream laughs, and it's a teakettle sort of wheeze, and quite possibly the greatest thing George has ever heard. "Awesome that you saw that. Maybe not one of my proudest moments, nor a great first impression on someone so cute."

George is certain his face is a deep red, something similar to the colour of the nose of the decorative Rudolph that had been set out on the lawn. Dream called him _cute._

George bites his bottom lip, trying to contain the smile threatening his face. "Your performance was good, promise. Not the best I've seen, but not the worst either. I swear."

Dream nudges George's shoulder. "You're definitely lying, but I appreciate it. What's your name, by the way? I've never seen you around."

"I could say the same." George chuckles. "I'm George."

_"You're_ George?" Dream asks, and George isn't sure whether or not it was a bad thing that Dream knew who he was. It was hard to decipher.

George blinks. "Yes?"

Judging by the excitement on Dream's face, hopefully that meant it was a _good_ thing that George was known to the blond. "I've been told a lot about you. By Sapnap, mostly. I thought he was trying to be cool when he said he had a "friend from Britain", as if Wilbur and Phil didn't exist, but I guess he wasn't being dishonest. I guess what he meant was that you've never lived here before school, like they had."

George huffs out a short laugh. "I wouldn't put it past Sapnap to lie about something like that, but yes, he was telling the truth. I wanted to come to the States for school, despite the crippling debt that I'll gain alongside my degree."

Dream snorts. "Tell me about it. On top of that you _are_ an international student, right? More debt."

George nods. "Sadly. It's been worth it, though, I think. I've met some really neat people. I think the best part ought to be these Christmas parties, though."

"Is that so? Why's that?" Dream asks.

It's a miracle that George was able to accomplish any conversation without _more_ alcohol in his system. "Without them, I wouldn't have met you."

Dream grins. "Aw, shucks. You're making me blush."

George grimaces. "I think that's the drinking. Might have to retract my statement."

"Oh, man." Dream pouts. "Whatever will I do? I've hardly known you ten minutes and you've already broken my heart once. You cruel, _cruel_ man, George."

"I try." George winks. Dream hums, and a new silence falls over the two. Only then does George notice he's shivering, after having been too distracted by his talk with Dream to realize the temperature must have dropped lower. Dream must notice, too, because soon he's taking off his jacket and draping it over George's shoulders. George's fingers are still trembling as he pulls the clothing item closer, but it does help.

"It's like twenty degrees and you didn't even wear a sweater. Come on, now," Dream gently tuts. "You couldn't even bare to wear an ugly sweater to get into the holiday spirit?"

"I'm afraid I don't own one," George admits. He finally looks to Dream, up close and personal. George admires the way Dream's dirty blond hair curls around his ears, and the smattering of freckles that decorate his face. George watches as Dream's tired green eyes flicker to George's lips. They're close, _so close,_ breathing each other's air, their exhales coming out as short, cloudy puffs. George's ears are ringing, but maybe that's just the sound of sleigh bells coming from inside.

"Can I kiss you?" Dream suddenly asks, voice barely above a hoarse whisper.

The question sends a chill down George's spine, alighting butterflies in his stomach. "I think I'd like that," George says, hushed, as if fearful of anyone from the outside world listening in.

Everything feels like it's moving in slow motion the moment George gives his consent. Dream moves forward, eyelids fluttering shut. George is glued to his place, tensed and panicking, but the moment they connect, George relaxes, leaning into the kiss and letting his eyes fall shut. Both their lips are chapped from the dry winter weather, and Dream tastes mildly of cheap beer, but George can't find it in himself to care. He subconsciously brings a hand to Dream's face, the latter lifting his own hand to George's. Dream's hand nearly engulfs George's, but George wouldn't complain for the sake of their warmth. Everything felt just... _perfect._

After what felt like a blissful eternity they detach, George already mourning the loss of contact. Dream's lips are red and swollen, and George could imagine the same could be said about him. 

They're met with a few moments of light panting, before Dream blurts, "Well that was hot."

George groans and gently shoves Dream, the blond doubled over in laughter. "You are disgusting. Wonderful job if your goal was to make me regret letting you sit here, though."

Dream throws a hand over his heart and gasps, as if offended by the accusation. "I would never. What do you take me for?"

"Horny, is what." George snorts. "What else was Sapnap saying about me, huh?"

Dream shrugs a shoulder. "Not gonna lie, he did talk you up a bit. I think he was planning on setting us up."

"He _what?!"_ George shouts, and he can see Dream pull his lips into a thin line as if realizing that may have been something he shouldn't have mentioned. "That motherfucker! What, does he think he can play matchmaker now? Unbelievable. You whine about your love life once and suddenly he's plotting."

"It would seem so," Dream agrees. "But I don't think I would mind too much. I wouldn't be opposed to getting to know you better."

"You're just saying that because you're drunk," George remarks, flicking Dream's arm. "I am quite possibly the most boring son of a bitch out there."

"Well, _first of all,_ they say drunk words are sober thoughts, so, _"_ Dream counters. "And _secondly,_ from what I've heard from Sapnap and a few others, that is simply not true. Don't sell yourself short, pal."

"Don't call me " _pal","_ George mimics lightheartedly, braving the cold for air quotes. "Then I'll consider it."

Dream hums. "Will you at least consider giving me your number?"

George pulls his eyebrows together as if he were in deep thought about the question. He already had an answer, of course, but there was no fun in that, especially not when it came to someone like Dream. Dream's confidence was all true and natural, George was doing his best to muster any fake courage left in him. There was no way George wouldn't at least _attempt_ to act hard to get. 

"Now that's something I can manage," George finally says, and Dream lights up as enthusiastically as the Christmas decorations Karl had put out for the holiday season.

Dream beams at George. "You're a doll."

_"And_ now you're not getting my number."

Dream chuckles and waves a dismissive hand. "No worries. I'll just ask Sapnap."

George narrows his eyes at the blond. "You wouldn't."

Suddenly, Dream stands, a bit less lacking in grace this time, taking a step back towards the door. He sets his hand on the door handle, as if challenging George. "I would."

George scrambles to his feet as Dream turns the handles and pushes open the door, setting off into the house to find their friend. George chases him through the party, weaving through people and doing his best not to knock into anything. By the time George finally catches up to Dream, almost out of breath, he's already speaking with Sapnap, who sports a knowing grin the moment he sees George.

"What," George grits out between breaths, "did he say to you?"

Sapnap shrugs. George spots that he had moved onto another drink since George had left. "Nothing much," he says, entirely nonchalantly. "Just talking about how much of a dumbass you are."

"Hey!"

"I'm kidding," Sapnap reassures. "Mostly. He asked for your number, but I hadn't realized you two, uh. Met."

"Yeah, outside. Long story," George explains to Sapnap, before turning to Dream. "I can't believe you actually asked, dipshit! Tell me he didn't give it to you."

"He didn't give it to me," Dream confesses dejectedly. "He said, and I quote, "as great as this development is, George would kill me if I complied," so, you know."

"You know I'm right here, right?" Sapnap interrupts.

"This doesn't concern you."

"I'd like to argue it does, but whatever," Sapnap says, rolling his eyes. "I'll excuse myself."

Sapnap does exactly that, slipping out of their circle and into another conversation elsewhere. George and Dream don't exchange another word until they are certain Sapnap is out of range. George felt a bit rude sending him off like that, but he was sure Sapnap didn't mind, if what Dream had been declaring Sapnap guilty of was true. It was probably a relief to him that George had finally talked to someone more than platonically. It was possible that George _did_ complain about being single more often than what was tolerable.

"You know I was going to give you my number anyways, right? Like, instead of running through the house, you could've just waited?" George asks, crossing his arms and sending Dream an unimpressed look. 

Dream scrunches his nose. "But that's not fun, is it?"

George clicks his tongue. "I have to disagree. I didn't come here to work out."

"And yet you still followed," Dream observes.

George sighs, dropping his shoulders in defeat. "I suppose I did. So are you going to give me your phone or what?"

Dream smiles and does as George requests, handing the unlocked device out to him. George types in his number and sets his contact as a simple _'George'_ before returning the phone. George eventually finds himself another drink or two over the course of the night, talking with Dream into the early hours. 

The crowd around them only starts to dwindle around three in the morning. It's not too long after then that Dream checks the time, George guessing he had thoughts of leaving himself. It _was_ getting late, and George had had his fair share of alcohol, but surprisingly, he wasn't all that tired.

Dream frowns down at his phone at the glaring number displayed on his screen. He tucks the device back into his pocket disappointingly. "I should probably head out soon. My last final of the semester is tomorrow."

George quirks an eyebrow. "And you decided to go to a party instead of studying?"

Dream taps his temple. "It's all up here already. I'm not _that_ stupid."

"You're sure about that? Because some of the things I saw tonight would tell me otherwise," George says, giving Dream an assessing look. Though his many anecdotes were varying degrees of embarrassing, nothing still compared to the 'concert' from earlier that night. George knew he would be bringing it up as much as possible in the foreseeable future.

"I may look like the most stereotypical frat boy there is, but despite what you may think, I can, in fact, do smart things. Just not when I'm drunk. Either way, though, I think you enjoyed my rendition of _Christmas,"_ Dream teases. 

George sniffs. "Not at all. Like nails on a chalkboard. A three out of ten if I'm being generous," George critiques, which was less than truthful at best. George, honestly, would say Dream's singing was closer to a seven or even an eight, but he'd never admit that out loud. At least, he might have to be blackout drunk if he were to.

"Okay, rude. Might have to block you already," Dream replies, pouting his lower lip. "I'm serious though, I probably should leave. Even if I have everything down, any less sleep and I'll start to forget."

George huffs. _"Fine._ Guess you can leave."

"Glad to have your permission." Dream snorts. "Can I have it for something else?"

George tilts his head. "For what might that be?"

"A goodnight kiss?" Dream suggests, making puppy dog eyes at George, who was _obviously_ unable to resist—and _totally_ only because of the face Dream was pulling, and _definitely_ not for any other underlying reason.

George feigns deep thought about the question, but ultimately nods as if it physically pained him to do so, but the act is screwed up when they both start to laugh. George takes a step closer, closing the gap between them. The kiss isn't much different from the one out on the porch, only George is happy to be inside and warm, rather than freezing his ass off outside. He elects to ignore the sharp whistles and scattered whooping he can hear from a select few of his friends.

"I had a great time tonight. Meeting you," Dream says, once they pull apart. "We should hang out some time, over the break. If you're not flying home or anything anytime soon for Christmas."

"Not until the twenty-third," George tells him. "'Til then I'm free as can be. You have my number, I'm sure you can text me whenever you're available."

Dream winks at George. "I'll think about it. Maybe once I sober up I won't want to talk to you."

"Feeling's mutual," George quips. "Have a good night, yeah?"

Dream nods, smiling. "Will do."

The blond gently squeezes George's shoulder before brushing by him, making a beeline for the front door. He bids goodbye to a few people on his way, and before George knew it, Dream was gone for the night. 

George is snapped from his thoughts as someone socks him in the arm from out of nowhere. Who else could it be but Alex, of course. "Totally called you wanted to fuck him. So?"

"Shut the fuck up," George grouses as Alex laughs and throws an arm over his shoulders and directs him to a group with Sapnap, Karl, and a few others. 

George doesn't hang around for much longer, and while he does enjoy the company of his friends, a wave of fatigue washes over him around the four A.M. mark. He calls a taxi and leaves shortly thereafter. He barely undresses before collapsing on his bed when he gets back to his apartment, too tired to care about going through the motions of his nightly routine. Sleep comes easy.

And in the morning—well, _afternoon_ —George wakes to a text from Dream reading, _Turns out I didn't regret talking to u last night. Coffee tmrw maybe? :)_

A smile finds its way onto George's lips as he reads the message, sending back a reply of, _I wouldn't be against it. GL on ur final :)_

George doesn't expect to receive a response anytime soon, seeing as Dream had sent his original text a few hours prior and George hadn't a clue when his final was, so he safely assumed Dream was most likely preoccupied at the moment. Not that George was too concerned—he was just as content going through his day, now with something to look forward to. 

And when Dream pulls his car up the next day to pick him up for their date completely, unabashedly belting the lyrics to none other than U2's version of _Christmas (Baby Please Come Home)_ whilst _sober,_ George decides that Dream was most _definitely_ the person he had been missing from his life.

**Author's Note:**

> i almost forgot that fahrenheit is a thing that exists so writing "it's like twenty degrees" as if that's cold is really messing with me. disgusting imperial system
> 
> \+ wanted to mention that none of the fics in this series will be related :))
> 
> ++ i will be uploading around 5-6pm EST every day


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